Purposes Under Heaven
by Thnx4theGum
Summary: Another listfic like Vows. These oneshots will be derived from the Bible, Ecclesiastes, chapter 3, verses 2-8. The title is derived from Ecc. 3:1- "To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under Heaven." NKJV .
1. A time to be born and a time to die

**Hello again everyone! Well, here is the beginning of yet another series of oneshots. Another listfic like Wedding Vows. These oneshots will be derived from the Bible, Ecclesiastes, chapter 3, verses 2-8. The title is derived from Ecc. 3:1- "To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under Heaven."(NKJV). There are 14 refrains. Expect the same cast of characters to show up- skipping around Booth history as usual. **

**Disclaimer: As always, Bones isn't mine, but my bones are. Enjoy!**

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**A time to be born and a time to die.**

As a rational, empirical, forensic anthropologist, Dr. Temperance Brennan accepted the inevitability of death in every living creature. Her mind knew that everything that has a beginning must also meet an ending. Her heart, on the other hand, did not accept it as well- especially when birth and death were separated by only one month. Such was the case with the remains of the infant that lay on the table before her.

She glanced at the rendering that Angela had completed earlier- the chubby-cheeked boy smiled in stark contrast with the bones laid out in front of her. The sterility of the lab and the gleam of the stainless steel table sent a shiver through her that she could neither identify nor categorize. Perhaps Booth would know; her partner was better at such things than she.

It was Booth, of course, who had brought the case to the Jeffersonian. The badly decomposed remains had been discovered in the shadow of the Lincoln Memorial by a group of early-morning tourists who had come to view the sunrise. The tourists had called the police, who had called Cullen, who had, in turn, called Booth- who had awakened her with his call at six o'clock this morning. Dead babies were not good for tourism and it was incumbent on she and Booth and the rest of the 'Squint Squad' to determine the cause of death, and to bring the one responsible for it to justice as soon as possible.

Brennan paused and took a closer look at the development of the bones in front of her. Many were still in the process of turning to bone. The sutures on the skull had only recently been sealed, though they still resembled fissures in the creamy white bones.

She turned the skull and glanced inside. It was bathed in red. The bleach had not been allowed to penetrate inside, and had left the brain case intact.

Shaken baby. It was a classic symptom. Unfortunately, there was no other skeletal trauma which could help to confirm one way or another.

"Got anything for me yet, Bones?" Booth swiped his pass and then joined her on the platform.

She relayed the information that she had discovered already.

"How old was he?" he asked softly.

"I would estimate about a month old."

He swore, "What makes any parent shake their kid, huh, Bones? Rebecca and I had to watch some video about the dangers of it before we could even _hold_ Parker!"

"I'm sorry, Booth," she laid her hand on his arm, her clinical tone softened.

She glanced back down at the bones, "The growth pattern seems a little odd."

"What do you mean?"

"I would expect to see more growth from a healthy infant. These bone seem abnormally small- even for a child as young as this."

"So what are you saying?"

"I need to look at the bones under magnification, but I think the child was malnourished."

He swore again, "I'll be up in your office talking to Cullen."

She nodded and started preparing a cross-section of the bone for microscopic analysis.

Thirty minutes later she was ready for a second opinion, "Zack, come here," he was at her side in moments, "What do you see?"

He squinted at the computer, "Disorganized patterning of the trabecular bone. Malnourishment?"

"It would appear so. Yes," she turned and looked at the bones in front of her. "And I would expect to see more growth, even in an infant this young…" her voice trailed off as she put the information together in her head.

"Booth will want to hear this."

She went up to her office. Booth apparently had finished his conversation with Cullen as he was fast asleep on her couch. He had been woken up even earlier than she had. She gently nudged him and he awoke with a grunt.

"I think the child was malnourished," she said when he was cognizant again.

"And shaken?"

"Yes."

"So how does that help me, Bones?"

"Malnourshiment, shaken baby… I don't like speculating but that indicates one or both of the parents."

"Great," he rolled his eyes, "That doesn't really narrow things down for me much. Do you know how many angry, negligent parents there are in DC, Bones?"

She scowled, "Of course not, Booth. That's your territory. With a child this small, there's really no way for me to narrow down the ID any further."

"But you didn't even give me race, age, or sex."

Cam walked in before she could reply, "I ran a tox screen on the remaining soft tissue," she held up a file which Brennan took, "It's positive for cocaine."

"She was on drugs too?" Booth asked.

"Cocaine is extremely addictive," Brennan said, skimming through the file, "It would explain why she didn't have the forethought to feed her infant."

"And why she shook her kid too," Booth followed the train of thought.

His phone rang. He answered it, acknowledging the voice on the other end. Brennan went back to the bones to see if there was anything she may have missed. There wasn't, and by the time she concluded that Booth was off of the phone.

"Well, Bones," he grinned for the first time that day, "I think we just caught our lucky break! DC police just brought in a cocaine junkie they found near the Memorial. Get this, her prints were all over the pacifier our guys found down at the scene _and_ she keeps raving on about how she lost her baby."

"Get a DNA sample and I'll get it going right away," Cam ordered.

"Well, Booth," Brennan said as he trailed her up to her office, "Perhaps you won't have to look hard for your needle in the hayloft after all."

"Hay_stack_, Bones," he smiled, "But good try."

They reached her office and she sank down into the couch and closed her eyes. It had been a long day and she was weary from standing for hours looking over the remains. She snuck a look at the clock. Nearly twelve hours had passed since Booth had picked her up this morning. Her stomach was reminding her that she had not nourished it since the coffee and doughnuts she and Booth had shared on the way to the crime scene.

"Com'on, Lazy Bones," she opened her eyes to find Booth towering over her with her jacket and purse draped over one arm, "Time to go get dinner."

She started to protest, then realized how futile that would be and accepted his hand to stand up. He helped her get her jacket on and handed her purse to her. She went to get the paperwork off of her desk that she would need to fill out, but Booth's hand stayed her.

"No, Bones," his tone was firm, "It'll be here when you come in tomorrow."

"Booth-"

"Bones we are not going to argue about this," he captured her arm and turned her away from the desk and toward the door, "We just worked a twelve-hour shift on an emotionally draining case. We still need to eat, so the paperwork can wait. Besides," he smiled, "The way you look it'd just sit in your bag all night anyway."

"You don't look much better, Booth," she pointed out weakly, but followed him out of the door.

Deciding on Chinese food, they took it back to her apartment to eat. They ate hungrily and in companionable silence. Now that she was out of the confines of the Jeffersonian, she found that the emotional strain of the day had begun to take its toll. She could see from the lines that crossed Booth's face that he was not faring much better. They finished their meal and cleared the table, barely two words spoken between them, and sat down at either ends of her couch.

"Rough day, huh?" he said finally, breaking the silence.

"Yes," she agreed, tucking her legs underneath of her.

"I'm glad we caught a break, though."

"As am I."

"You alright, over there, Bones?" he crossed the gap that separated them and gazed intently into her eyes.

She met them, "Honestly, Booth, I don't know."

He waited quietly for her to continue, his compassion and concern for her well-being evident in his eyes.

"I'm not like you, Booth," she went on, "I don't feel things intuitively. I recognized that on one hand death is a natural part of the life cycle, but on the other it seems like such an unnatural thing for a child to experience. Especially one so young," she looked into his eyes pleading for him to understand her position, "So it is not as if I am cold or unfeeling- though I can compartmentalize well in order to be clinical within the lab- I simply do not know how to properly convey the emotions that I feel. We face death every day, and so this is how I cope."

"I know, Bones," he acknowledged.

He opened his arms, inviting her into his embrace. Tired and weary she accepted and fell into him. His sturdy arms wrapped around her, stabilizing and comforting her at the same time. She breathed deeply, her body relaxing at the familiar scent his body emitted. Before she realized it, he had drawn her up onto his lap. She tensed at the close, almost intimate, contact, but calmed as his hands began easing all of the tension that had been building in her back and shoulders throughout the day. She was asleep within minutes.

Seeley Booth looked over his shoulder at the face of his sleeping partner. The sorrow he had read in her face was beginning to ease as she drifted further off to sleep, and he could feel her body molding itself to his own. He wondered if other people realized how deeply she felt about the cases they took on. He doubted it, and the knowledge made him sad yet touched at the same time. He was sad because she so rarely let anyone in to help ease the burdens that she carried; touched because he was among the few. It was times like these that made him wish he had never drawn the line between them. Times like these he wished he were in her life every night, to ease her cares and help her to sleep, to wake up beside her each morning and face the day together.

Gently, so as not to wake her, he eased one arm below her legs and one under her back and carried her into her room. He set her down on the bed as if her body were as fragile as her emotions, and smiled as her hair fell around her face framing it perfectly. As he eased the covers around her, he noticed how peaceful she looked in her sleep. If he was honest with himself he had to admit that she claimed a large portion of his heart; but that same love would not let him push her too far too fast. He valued her too much as a friend to lose her.

And so instead of fulfilling his own dreams and curling up beside her, he placed a gentle kiss on her brow and left, "I love you Bones," he whispered into the night, "Sweet dreams."


	2. A time to plant and a time to uproot

**A time to plant and a time to uproot**.

Seeley Booth stood in a small room at a large church and fidgeted.

"We are too old for this," he complained as his wife tied the bow tie on his tuxedo, "And she is too young."

"Hope is twenty-one," Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth reminded her husband, "And an adult fully capable of determining whether or not she wishes to marry."

"Still feel old," he grumbled, pondering his reflection in the mirror.

One too many grey hairs looked back at him and he could swear his hairline was beginning to recede.

"Well, we're certainly not young," at least Bones was agreeing with him on that, "However, we are not elderly either. There," she stood back to look at her handiwork, "You are ready to go."

"Am not."

"You know what I mean."

"Still look like a monkey."

"You say that about every suit you put on. I have yet to see any resemblance to a primate; however, if I ever do I shall inform you."

"Thanks, Bones," his voice oozed of sarcasm and his grin was wide, "You do that. Meanwhile, I suppose we have a daughter to give away."

"Yes," he could hear a hint of sadness in her tone.

"Do you know what I just realized, Bones?" she shook her head and he continued, "This will be the first time in almost thirty years that it'll be just the two of us."

She nodded, "I thought about that as well."

There was an awkward silence. For decades now their house had been a place bursting with activity. First with their foster daughters, then the twins, Jacob, Hope, and Parker. Many a Friday night had found crowds of teenagers at the Booth house. They played everything from Cranium to Pictionary. Summer evenings consisted of packing people into the large in-ground pool Booth had put in while they were fostering, and roasting hotdogs by the outdoor fire pit. Even while she was at college, Hope would come home for dinner once or twice a week or stay over on the weekends, bringing her college friends with her. The thought of an empty house was a foreign concept to them- and not something either one of them were very fond of.

"She'll be fine with Jim," Booth broke the silence, commenting on his daughter's groom.

"Yes," she agreed, "He's a good man."

"He better be," Booth grinned, "Or he'll have the Booth men to answer too."

His wife rolled her eyes, "A frightening prospect indeed."

"Hey, Parker and Jake and I make a very intimidating trio."

"Legends in your own minds, no doubt," she deadpanned.

There was a knock at the door before he could find a retort.

"Safe to come in?" Hope's voice sounded from the other side of the door.

Booth opened it to find his daughter swathed in white silk, her hair done up in elaborate curls.

"How do I look, Daddy?" she twirled for him.

For a moment he was transported back in time. When she had been four she had done that same thing every morning. He could still picture her little girl face staring up at him as if her entire outlook on life hinged on his answer to her question. It seemed like only yesterday.

"You look beautiful, Bones Junior," he said finally.

"Dad," she rolled her eyes, "Don't call me Bones."

"It's useless to try and dissuade him," Bones Senior came over and patted her on the shoulder, "Your father is quite stubborn when it comes to his nicknames."

"You," Hope pointed at her mother, "Are Bones, not me. Besides, Daddy, it's my wedding day so you have to be nice to me."

"That so?"

"Yup. It's in the rules somewhere. Your job is to smile and give me away and try not to make a blubbering fool of yourself in the process," she kissed him on the cheek, "Which is why I'm here, actually. Mom, Parker's ready to take you to your seat now and Dad, you and I are on in five."

Booth and Bones exchanged a quick kiss and she went in search of Parker. Alone with his daughter the full magnitude of what was about to happen hit him.

"So you're sure this guy's the one?" he tried the humorous approach.

"Yeah, Dad," she smiled, "He really is."

"'Cause you can hang out with us for a few more years if you really want."

"Nah," she shook her head, "You guys are old enough to be on your own."

"You really do look beautiful, Hope," his voice was thick with emotion.

"Thanks, Daddy," she said softly, "We should get going though."

Arm in arm they joined the rest of the wedding procession. Booth heard the music begin to play from the front of the church and the group started to move. Angela Hodgins was at the front of the line, releasing each pair at the correct moment.

Time stretched into an eternity for Booth as memories flashed through his mind. Hope as an infant, pudgy and pink; Hope the four year-old, playing Star Wars with her brothers and the twins. The music changed and Angela signaled that it was their time to go. They went, taking measured steps down the aisle.

More memories: ten year-old Hope hitting a game-winning home run for her Little League team; Hope, fourteen and devastated because the boy that she had a crush on had teased her in front of the entire Freshman class about her braces; Hope, eighteen, head held high as she delivered her Valedictorian speech. Just two weeks ago she had received her Bachelor's degree with highest honors.

For twenty-one years now she had been his responsibility. He had encouraged her when she'd succeeded and comforted her when she'd failed. Now that burden would shift off of him and onto Jim Roberts. Bones was right about him being a good man. But he still felt as if a part of his soul was being uprooted.

Finally, it was time. Father and daughter stood at the front of the church. Booth looked up and saw the love in his future son-in-law's eyes, remembered what he had felt for Bones on their wedding day, and let go.

"I love you, Little One," he whispered in her ear so softly he wasn't sure she'd heard him.

She turned to him, her eyes brimming with tears of joy, "I love you too, Daddy."


	3. A time to kill and a time to heal

**A time to kill and a time to heal.**

Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth was not having a good day. Her morning had started at six when the Booth's youngest foster daughter, Scout, had woken complaining of nausea. By seven, Scout had vomited four times. Temperance felt bad about having to leave the teenager home sick, but as Parker was staying with them for the week while Rebecca was on a business trip, someone had to make the hour-long drive to take him to school in DC. That someone was her. She dropped him off just in time and was half-way home when the school nurse called asking if Dr. Brennan would mind coming back and picking Parker up as he was throwing up as well.

It was nearly eleven by the time she got home again, sick Parker in tow, to find Scout sound asleep. She put Parker to bed as well and set about tidying up the house. As she'd suspected, the girls had left their dirty dishes strewn about the house, as well as pieces of clothing and other paraphernalia. Unable to settle down into her normal writing routine, she began cleaning the upstairs bedrooms. It was under Lily's bed that she had found the bong.

Lily Rogan was seventeen and had been with the Booth's for a year and a half. She was headstrong and stubborn and had previously refused to submit to authority. Her mother, fifteen and scared, had signed her over to the system when she was four and never looked back. Lily had been through twenty foster families in her short life; none able to cope with the on-edge teen. When she had first come to live with them, she had used more foul language than a boatload of sailors. Booth had put his foot down there, not wanting his impressionable son to pick up on the rough language. It had taken months of being consistent with her to shake her of the habit; and she still slipped up from time to time. Now they would have to confront her about the bong, though Temperance was relieved to find no drugs in the bedroom as well.

She spent the rest of the afternoon checking in periodically on Parker and Scout and working on her latest novel. When the girls returned from school she asked Lily to join her in her office.

"Do you know what this is?" Temperance held the bong up to the girl.

Lily shrugged, "A bong."

"Yes," her voice was even, but firm, "I found it in your room, under your bed."

Another shrug, "So what?"

"Lily, this house has rules. Bringing a bong into this house is in clear violation of the rules."

"So kick me out already," Lily spat, "Doesn't matter. I'll be eighteen and clear of here in a month anyway."

"No," she shook her head firmly, "You are staying here until you are emancipated. I will, however, be informing your social worker of this."

The teenager rolled her eyes, "Like that's going to do anything."

"Lily, you could easily be arrested for possession of drug paraphernalia and in a month you can be prosecuted as an adult. Booth and I are here if you are willing to seek help, but the desire must start with you. As for this," she held up the bong, "Booth and I will discuss your punishment when he returns home. For now you are to remain in the house."

Lily rolled her eyes again and stalked dramatically from the room, slamming the door on her way out.

Word of the finding spread quickly through the house, leading to a very subdued crowd at the dinner table. The girls were, for the most part, very supportive of their foster parents and when one of them broke the rules the others were quick to mete out their own form of punishment on the offender. For her part, Temperance was thankful for the quiet as Booth was not home yet and she still had two sick children to tend to on her own.

After dinner she assigned each of the girls a part of the cleaning up ritual. While they were carrying out their tasks, she went to check on Parker, who was feeling better, but longing for company. She read him a book and gave him some Jello and Gatorade for him to try and keep down. Her next stop was Scout's room, where she found the teenager fast asleep. She removed the girl's sketch pad and pencils from the bed, covered her with a light blanket, and turned off the light.

With Booth still not home, she spent the rest of the evening checking homework assignments and offering help when needed. A game of Phase 10 broke out after homework was done and did not end until nine o'clock. Exhausted from the day's events, Temperance sent the girls to their rooms with strict orders for lights out at ten o'clock and went down to the basement to relax.

Slipping in the copy of Pride and Prejudice that Angela had purchased for her last Christmas, she began folding laundry. She could not wait for Booth to come home. She ached for his listening ear and physical support. She also wanted to consult him as to how they should proceed with Lily. Perhaps the teen would respond to Booth's alpha-male personality. An hour later, the laundry was finished and she was beginning to be concerned about Booth's whereabouts.

She was in her room preparing for bed when she finally heard the front door opening, signaling Booth's return. His footsteps echoed through the quiet house and were headed in her direction. She turned toward the door, smiled widely in greeting- and stopped.

Booth was haggard- his clothes were disheveled, covered in dirt, and torn in a couple of places. His mouth was set in a grim line and a slow gait replaced his usual swagger as he made his way into the room. Passing her wordlessly, he took her hand in his and sat them both down on the bed. He turned his body toward her and pulled her close.

For five long minutes he held her, silent, nursing the beer he had retrieved on his way up. He alternated between stroking her hair and caressing her hand and arm. She felt something warm and wet touch her lower back.

"Booth," she turned to the source of the wetness, "You're bleeding!"

"Just a flesh wound," he said absently.

All thoughts of her own bad day vanished as she went to retrieve the first aid kit. When she returned he was exactly where she had left him. Taking the now-empty beer bottle from his hand and setting it on the dresser behind her, she began gently removing his shirt to get a better look at the wound. He had been correct that it was superficial and within moments she had it cleaned and bandaged.

"Thanks, Bones," he managed.

She nodded, studying his face and seeing that he also had a black eye that was beginning to emerge. She checked for other injuries.

Noting her perusal he tried to force a smile, "You should see the other guy."

Their eyes met, "You had to kill them, didn't you? Whoever gave you that wound?"

He nodded, "No other choice, Bones. It was either him or me."

She moved to sit beside him again, took his hands in her own, and met his gaze, "I am sorry that you had to kill again, Booth and I love you."

"Can I just hold you, Bones?" his voice was quiet, but laden with emotion.

"Of course," she assented.

An hour ago all she had wanted was to be held and to regale him with the events of her day. Now, with his arms around her, clinging to her as if she were his anchor, she was simply glad that he had made it home alive.


	4. A time to break down and time to buildup

**A time to build up and a time to tear down.**

The foundation for the walls that surrounded Dr. Temperance Brennan's heart had been laid just before Christmas the year that she turned fifteen when she realized that her mother and father were gone and might never return. The next layer came when, less than a week later, Russ abandoned her as well. And while in the "care" of the foster system she had taken what little exposure remained of her heart and sealed it off completely.

The wall served her well through the rest of her teen years and on through college and grad school, insulating her from any painful romantic or otherwise emotional engagements. Oh, she dated men and even slept with them on occasion, but she never let down the wall. Never let them see who she really was inside. She knew that eventually they- like everyone else in her life- would leave; and the less emotionally attached she allowed herself to become, the less it would hurt when the inevitable came.

As she sat at her desk at the Jeffersonian, trying to analyze what had occurred there just scant seconds before, she thought of the few men that had come close to bringing the wall down. Michael Stires had been one of them; Timothy Sullivan had been another. Both of them, in the end, had merely served as further proof that the wall should remain firmly in place and fall for no man- no matter how charming his smile.

So why was it that one man's smile was threatening to undo what had taken years to erect? She had kissed men before, so why did Booth's lips caressing her own feel so different- so intimate? The pressure of them still lingered, though he no longer remained. She wondered idly if he was still chewing her gum- then chastised herself for allowing idle thoughts in the first place. What was happening to her?

It was Booth's fault- well Caroline's for the kiss- but Booth's for all of the uncontrollable, erratic emotions that had ensued. It was he who had been constantly badgering her over the last two years to intuit rather than rationalize- to "feel things out" as he did almost instinctively. Easy for him to say- his "gut" was like a finely tuned sixth sense. Where she analyzed, he felt deeply. Where her heart was safely encased behind her wall, his was worn on his sleeve for the world to see. She had no doubt that he carried baggage from all of the war action that he had seen. But Seeley Booth was a man who let people in on occasion so that he could experience healing. She, on the other hand, was a woman who shut people out in order to avoid any further pain. They were so incredibly different in so many ways, and yet there was a connection between them that was becoming increasingly difficult to deny.

She realized, with a sinking feeling, that there was only one course of action that remained for her. She would have to consult Angela. Angela was the one person who could help her make sense of her conflicting emotions. She trusted the other woman's counsel implicitly- even though the artist was prone to a fair bit of hyperbole. Angela would know exactly what Brennan should do- or not do.

Confident that she had found the most logical course of action, she got back to work. The correct moment would eventually present itself and she and Booth had a case to solve in the meantime. Over the next few days she continued to work side-by-side with Booth on the Kris Kringle case. Neither one of them mentioned the incident and she was pleased to see that it had not hampered their work relationship. Their friendship seemed to have remained intact as well and she added that fact to the growing list of points she had for Angela to review.

When the case closed, she felt an odd sadness come over her. She truly would miss Booth while she was away. And she was beginning to question the wisdom of her decision not to join her family for Christmas. She _had_ earned them that right after all, and familial obligations were beginning to get to her despite the hurt that remained from the past. Booth's influence again, no doubt; he took family connections very seriously.

And so, as the small gathering of colleagues dispersed from their holiday gift-exchange, Brennan found herself pulling her best friend aside privately and confiding in her. She laid out the scenario that had occurred in her office, the resulting feelings and conflicts that had assaulted her ever since, and a brief history of the wall and how she felt Booth was affecting it.

Angela listened to every word, absorbed every conflicting emotion, and sighed, "Sweetie, you know I love you," Brennan nodded and her friend continued, "And I know that deep down, you are terrified that Booth is going to come crashing through your wall and bring your world down with it. But, really, I think the reason you built a wall wasn't to block anyone out, but to see who loves you enough to climb over it."

"I suppose that is probable," she conceded, "Though I've never considered it in those terms before."

"Well think about it," she laid a compassionate hand on Brennan's forearm, "And think about joining your family for Christmas too. You need them as much as they need you."

Brennan nodded, contemplating the artist's words and they exchanged embraces before Angela left to go home with Hodgins. Brennan sat in the lounge area for what felt like hours- gazing at the ticket in her hand, wondering what the future would hold. Eventually she decided that she would determine her feelings for Booth at a later point. Angela had been correct. Her place was not thousands of miles away at a dig site. It was just across town in a conjugal visits trailer. And maybe- if he loved her enough- she would allow her father to start scaling the wall that had surrounded her heart for so long.


	5. A time to weep and a time to laugh

**A time to weep and a time to laugh.**

Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth tried to concentrate on the remains in front of her and failed miserably. She was thankful that this was a case from Limbo and not one that she and Booth were working on. Massaging her temples, she glanced at her watch. It was noon- Booth would not be coming to pick her up for lunch today. He was bogged down in meetings at the Hoover building and would not be back to the Jeffersonian until that evening. He had made her promise to eat lunch, however, so she decided to take a break. Her head was hurting anyway.

Carefully, she placed the bones that she had been examining back into their box, turned off the light, and headed toward her office. Cam halted her with a reminder that the annual donor's banquet would be held in a week and that Special Agent Seeley Booth and his wife were expected to be there. She responded that they would be, and made a mental note to remind Booth to save work for Hodgins to complete that night so that the entomologist would have an excuse not to attend.

She picked up her pace and walked briskly past Angela's office, which housed the Angelator. Five years ago on this day she had stepped into that room and her world had turned up-side down. The computer rendering of her mother's face still haunted her and she walked quickly past. Covering the remaining steps to her office, she shut the door in a vain attempt to shut out the memories.

"Hello, Honey," the voice startled her and she looked up to find her father rising from her couch.

She groaned inwardly- the last person she felt like seeing today was Max Keenan. Still, she accepted his embrace and motioned him to sit down. After so many years of not seeing him she doubted she would ever turn the man away.

"Booth said you'd be free for lunch today, so I thought I'd swing by and offer to take you."

"Dad, I-" she tried to form a thought, but could not.

"It's okay, Sweetheart," he soothed, "I know what today means for you. That's why I'm here."

She looked at him incredulously. How could he possibly know since he had not been a part of her life five years ago?

"Booth," she finally concluded aloud.

Max ducked his head and gave her a charm smile that could rival her husband's, "He didn't want you to be alone. And once I found out, I wanted to come."

Weary, she sat down on the couch and massaged her temples again. The headache still didn't go away- and her father was still waiting for her reply.

"Do you have any idea what that day did to me?" she said finally.

He shook his head, sat down beside her, and she continued, "I was fine up until then- well, perhaps not fine, but I at least knew who I was.

"That day I was running late for court when I walked past the Angelator and saw the facial reconstruction that Angela had just finished," she met her father's gaze, willing him to understand what she had been through, "I remember yelling at Angela and running to look at the artifacts they had found with the body. I was so sure that she had gotten it wrong- that Mom's bones hadn't been sitting right here in the Jeffersonian. The next thing I knew I was staring at Mom's belt buckle- the one with the dolphin on it. Then Booth found me and practically me to go home. He stopped by later that night to let me know that he could open an investigation on the case."

She paused, Max squeezed her hand, "He's a good man, Tempe."

She nodded, continuing, "He kept his word too. Except that that meant reconnecting with Russ, and discovering that you guys had separate lives and were criminals-"

"Liberators," he inserted.

"Criminals," she stressed and continued, "And then there was McVicker. Did you know he tried to tell me that Mom was having an affair with him and that you had been the one to kill her? I was so confused, Dad, so lost. For so long I thought I knew who I was- it all changed in an instant. And then you left that message on the machine. Part of me was elated that you were alive and the other part didn't know if I could trust you at all."

"I was trying to keep you safe," he murmured.

She bobbed her head, "I know that now. But then- then it just made me want to dig for answers even more."

"My girl," a soft smile crossed his face and he opened his arms.

She entered them and cried. Not huge, messy sobs, but soft, almost inaudible tears- crying for her mother, for herself, even for her father who had lost the love of his life. She had lived two weeks without Booth, but had gotten him back. Her father would live the rest of his life apart from his love. Max held her, rubbed her back, and simply let her vent. Eventually the tears ran dry. Max handed her a handkerchief and she wiped her face and blew her nose.

"I feel better," she said, surprised at how true the statement was.

"Good," he hugged her once more, and then pulled her to her feet, "Ready for lunch?"

"Yes," she smiled.

"How about that diner that you and Booth are always dragging me to?"

"Alright," she agreed as they headed for the door, "As long as you don't try and convince me to eat pie."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he made a face, "I can't stand cooked fruit."

She laughed- a loud belly laugh that made the entire lab stop and stare at the pair as they passed through. Max shook his head not sure what was so funny, put his arm around his girl, and thanked God that she had allowed him back in her life.


	6. A time to mourn and a time to dance

**A time to mourn and a time to dance.**

"I am officially old," Special Agent Seeley Booth collapsed on the couch, propping his feet on his wife's lap.

Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth looked over at him and pushed his feet off of her lap- where she was trying to catch up on paperwork. The couple had just returned from their honeymoon. They were staying at Booth's townhouse until they found a bigger apartment. Meanwhile, crime had not halted while they were gone and she had found a mountain of papers at the office waiting for her to fill out and sign. She needed a secretary.

"Why do you say that?" she asked distractedly.

"Because of this," he waved an envelope between two fingers, "It's an invitation to my twentieth high school reunion. I'm old!"

"Thirty-eight is neither old nor young," she stated.

"Point is," he said, "I can't believe I'm old enough to be out of high school twenty years already! Two full decades, Bones."

"Are you planning on attending?" she asked.

"I don't know," he hesitated.

"You should," she encouraged.

"Seriously?"

"Yes," she nodded, looking up from her work, "You would most likely enjoy reconnecting with your old classmates; and besides," she grinned, "I would very much like to observe the culture in which you spent your formative years."

"'Observe the culture', eh, Bones?" he cocked an eyebrow at her, "As in some sort of anthropological exercise?"

"Perhaps," she raised her own eyebrows back at him, "Or perhaps I simply wish to observe where the great Seeley Booth went to high school. You've regaled me with enough exploits over the years to pique my interest."

"Fine," he agreed, "We'll go. However," he sat up and leaned over so that his face was only inches from hers, "Right now, I wish to observe a certain forensic anthropologist break the laws of physics."

"Indeed?"

"Oh yes."

"Well," she let the paperwork fall to the floor and began running a finger over his chest, "As long as it's for scientific purposes…"

The observation lasted long into the night.

**Three Months Later**

"Bones, are you ready yet?" Booth paced outside of the bathroom door in their newly-purchased apartment, "We need to get going if we want to make it on time. It's a three hour drive there."

She opened the door and looked down at her dress, "I am still not convinced that this is an appropriate costume for the occasion."

Booth gave a low whistle, "Bones, you look _hot_! And believe me, the Roxy dress is good for _all_ occasions!"

She rolled her eyes and took an appraising look at him. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt, an American flag tie, a pair of purple and grey striped socks, and a belt buckle with a bald eagle on it.

"Cocky staying home tonight?" she teased, brushing the buckle with her fingers.

He groaned, "_We_ are going to stay home tonight if you do that again."

She did, and then scooted past him, "Come on, Booth. It is a three hour drive, you know."

He muttered something at the ceiling before following her.

"Hey, Bones," he said when they reached the driveway, "I was kinda wondering if we could take your car?"

"Why?"

"Well," he ducked his head, "Not that there's anything wrong with the Crown Vic, but it's just not- well-"

"You want people to think highly of you and you don't feel that an SUV exhibits the type of wealth that my Mercedes does?"

"Do you _have_ to put it like that?" he complained.

"Booth," she looked at him, "We are going to see people that you have not seen in decades. Male posturing is quite normal in this situation," she dangled the keys in front of him, "I, in fact, anticipated that."

"Good, Bones, thanks; I think," he held out his hand for the keys.

"My car, Booth," she smiled, "I drive."

"No way!" he protested, "MY reunion! I am NOT riding as a passenger for three hours!"

"Booth," she leveled a gaze at him, "Are you saying that the passenger's seat is the less desirable position?"

"Yes."

"So you are saying," she continued, "That I deserve the less desirable seat?"

"No," he said, hands on hips, "That's not it at all!"

"Seeley Booth," another leveled gaze, "I have been telling you for years that I am a good driver and yet you always insist on being the one in the driver's seat. Now, I must either conclude that you are deaf or that you deliberately tune me out, or," she paused dramatically, "That you see yourself as the superior person and more deserving of the better seat."

"I do not!"

"Then prove it to me," she crowed, "By letting me drive."

"Fine," he pouted, getting in the passenger's seat, "But can I drive the last hour since _I_ know where we're going?"

"You may," she acceded.

And they sped off.

**Three hours later…**

"Well, Bones, there she is," Booth pointed out a large building on their right, "The reunion's at the golf course country club, but I figured I'd show you the old _alma matter _first."

"It looks like a typical American high school," she observed.

"Yep, it's not much, but I had fun."

Soon they were at the country club. Booth helped his wife out of the car and they headed toward the building arm-in-arm.

"Name?" the woman at the check-in desk did not even look up at them.

"Seeley Booth."

Her head shot up and a grin spread across her face, "Seeley Booth? Is that really you?"

Recognition crossed Booth's face, "Sheree? Sheree Bellafini?"

"Sheree Williams, now," she displayed her ring hand, "And is this pretty thing your wife?"

"Yes she is," Booth said proudly, "Sheree, this is my wife, Temperance. Bones, this is Sheree."

"Your date to the Junior Prom?" she inquired of Booth while shaking the other woman's hand.

Sheree laughed, "What kind of tales you been telling outside of school, boy?"

"Only the good ones," he grinned widely.

"And the ones that relate to his sexual prowess," his wife teased.

"Honey, I like you," Sheree said, "You make sure you and Seels sit by me and my Mac during dinner alright?"

Dr. Brennan-Booth nodded, though she was not sure what a 'mac' was. They affixed the nametags that Sheree handed them and proceeded into the banquet hall. A large disco ball hung over the middle of the dance floor, casting multicolored reflections all across the room. Music that she identified as being from the 1980s played softly in the background.

"Maverick!" a tall man embraced Booth.

"Goose!" Booth greeted back.

"Hello," a petite blond extended her hand, "I'm Katie Gander. The man making a fool of himself with your husband is _my_ husband Ted."

"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan," Temperance introduced herself, "Brennan-Booth I mean. We were just married three months ago. Please, though, call me Tempe."

Katie nodded, "Booth's told us a lot about you actually. We would have been at your wedding but we were in Germany. Ted was deployed there at the time."

"What branch of the service was he in?"

"Rangers; like Booth," Katie shook her head, "Those two were inseparable during high school and joined up together."

"So you attended here as well?"

"Yes-"

"Kit-kat!" Booth turned from Ted and embraced Katie, "You look good!"

"You look the same," Katie grinned, "Well, maybe. Did you have grey hairs in high school, Maverick?"

"Why do they call you Maverick?" Tempe asked before Booth could retort.

"You know, Bones, Maverick?" her face was blank, "From Top Gun?"

"I assume that is some sort of movie," she said, "However, the word 'maverick' can mean a person who shows independence of thought or action, a non-conformist, or a rebel. So that in itself would explain the name."

"Bones," he put his arm around her shoulder, "Tomorrow we are going to rent Top Gun."

"If you insist."

"I do."

"Then we must."

"Oh, we will."

"Ahem," Ted coughed to get their attention, "You guys planning on taking a seat or are you just going to stand here and go at it all night?"

The newlyweds flushed and followed the Ganders to a table. Sheree had completed her registration duties and was also at the table with her husband, Mac. The three couples chatted back and forth as the courses of food began to arrive.

"So why does Mav call you Bones, Tempe?" Ted wanted to know as they waited for dessert.

She flashed a grin at Booth and then turned to Ted, "I work with Booth to identify skeletal remains-"

"Bones," Booth cut in, giving the vernacular term.

"-and so he thought it humorous to nickname me Bones," she rolled her eyes, "I suppose he felt himself rather clever, however the name seems to have persisted over the years. And does he refer to you as Goose because your last name is Gander?"

The man threw his head back and laughed, though not cruelly.

"Goose was Maverick's best friend in the movie," Booth whispered in her ear.

"I see," she said in a stage whisper to Booth.

She apologized to Ted. He assured her he wasn't offended.

Dessert came and Booth traded the cheesecake he was given for the apple pie that his wife received. When the last of the desserts were passed out, couples began gathering on the dance floor and the music began to play louder.

"Dance with me, Bones?" Booth asked when they had finished their desserts.

She nodded and he escorted her onto the dance floor. "Against the Odds" was playing and they began swaying together to the music. Booth smiled as his Bones laid her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, reveling in her nearness. Her scent was making him heady. He was glad that they had gotten over their fears and decided to give their relationship a shot. He was over the moon that she had married him. He held her closer.

"Hot Blooded" was the next song to play. Booth teased Bones for not performing her high leg kick, and she countered that it would not be prudent given her present attire. He asked if she would consider a private showing and she said she would take it under consideration.

Fifteen minutes and three power ballads later, Booth decided to call a break and they began the journey back to their table. Along the way they met several of his old acquaintances and friends from years ago. They exchanged old stories, how large or small their families were. Standing at Booth's side, Temperance once again marveled at the man she had married. While it did appear that he was 'That Guy' in high school, he also seemed to have been well-liked among his peers. People from every social group flocked to re-introduce themselves and catch up with him. She smiled and nodded and shook hands as was necessary, but mostly she observed.

"Maverick!" a voluptuous woman practically threw herself into Booth's arms.

"Hello, Karen," Booth did not look enthused.

"Wanna head under the bleachers again?" the woman batted her mascara-laden eyelashes at Booth.

"That didn't work so well for me the last time," he grimaced.

Karen gave a high-pitched titter, "Oh, Silly Seeley! It was just a little joke!"

"I ended up naked," he reminded her, "Not so funny for me. Besides," he turned to his wife, "I am a happily married man now. Karen, this is my wife, Doctor Temperance Brennan-Booth."

"A pleasure I'm sure," Karen offered a limp handshake, "Are you, like, a dentist or something?"

"Actually-" the scientist started.

"Dr. Brennan-Booth is a world-renowned forensic anthropologist as well as a best-selling fiction author," Booth cut in, putting his arm possessively around his wife and steering them away from Karen, "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have to get back to our table."

"I thought you always accused me of being egotistical when I bring up those facts," Bones teased him as they made their way back to the Ganders and the Williams.

"With women like that, Bones," he motioned his head backwards without turning around, "A little ego goes a long way."

She took his hand and smiled up at him, "Thank you for defending me, Booth. I was perfectly capable of doing so myself, but I appreciate the gesture."

"You are welcome, Bones," he smiled back and kissed her quickly on the lips, "Anytime."

"Newlyweds," Ted teased from the table.

They had just sat down when the DJ spoke up, "Now all you men gather on the dance floor and let's show these ladies how to get a groove on!"

"Thriller" began playing and Ted, Mac, and Booth made their way to the dance floor. The forensic anthropologist in Temperance couldn't help but observe. Booth was the obvious alpha-male in the group. She watched, amused, as the others lowered their heads in deference to him and- consciously or unconsciously- followed his lead. The entire hall was clapping by the time the song came to a close, and Booth caught her eye and threw her a wink and a wave. She waved back.

"And now, ladies," the DJ came on again, "Let's see if you can show these guys what you've got!"

The music started as the guys emptied they floor and the girls headed in. She took one step forward and froze as she realized what was playing. Anxiety welled up as the strains of "Girls Just Want To Have Fun" registered in her brain. And just as it had done years ago in the room full of snakes, an irrational, uncontrollable fear gripped her.

She needed air.

Placing one foot in front of the other, she found her way to the exit and stepped into the cool night air. She could still hear the music from here, though it was muted, and her heart raced inside of her chest. Time stood still until she heard his voice- felt his warm arms encircle her.

"Bones! Bones!" she could hear the concern but could not respond to him, "Temperance. It's okay, Baby. I'm right here, Bones. Shh…"

She wasn't sure how long they stood there. He was holding her, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing words into her ear. She extricated one hand from his grasp and felt along the spot where she knew the bullet had entered- where she had tried to keep his blood from spilling out- where she had thought she had lost him forever. Finally, the song was over and her fear released her.

"I'm okay now, Booth," her voice was more ragged than she hoped it would be.

He pulled back enough to search her eyes and he cupped her cheek in his left hand, "Are you ready to leave?"

She shook her head, "No, I'll be fine; truly. It was just that song-" she couldn't continue.

"I know," he soothed, "I know, Bones. I tried to get to you before you ran out, I really did. I knew as soon as it started that I needed to get to you."

"You are here now," she said, a bit more confidently, "That is what matters."

"We should go, Bones," he said firmly, "It's a long drive home and we both need the rest."

"No, Booth," she insisted, "I don't want your reunion experience to end with my anxiety attack."

"It's okay, Bones, besides, do you hear that?" he nodded toward the building, "That's Zeplin's 'Stairway to Heaven'- last song at any respectable '80s dance. I'll go say my goodbyes, get our things, and meet you at the car. And Bones?"

She lifted her head up to look at him, "Yes?"

"I'm driving home."

She was too weary to do anything but nod.

As he headed back inside Booth thought about the night. It had been a good one, he thought- excluding the last several minutes- he had gotten to reconnect with his old friends and see how much their lives had all changed since high school. He had even gotten the chance to redeem himself and apologize to Arlin Kinny for his role in the other's humiliation. Kinny had accepted the apology, and had been thrilled to be introduced to _the_ Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth. Yes, it had been a very good night. But now it was time to go home with his Bones.


	7. Cast away stones and Gather them up

**A time to cast stones away and to gather them up.**

Defenses.

She had always had them- always needed them. She had prided herself on her ability to look at everything rationally and to compartmentalize. Like stones, she had gathered each painful incident in her life until they had formed a wall. Angela had once commented that perhaps the wall was to see who loved her enough to climb over it. As much as she loved Angela, she still disliked psychology.

She had tried to allow her father a second chance. He was finally out of prison now- more because she had stuck out her neck for him than of his own devices. In truth she had put her career- her life- on the line for him. To his credit he had stayed in the area in the ensuing year and so far he had stayed out of trouble as well.

They had forged a tenuous bond. In time, she supposed, they would have enough rapport built up for her to allow him further access to her heart again. However she also had come to believe that the images of him leaving her twice- first with her mother, then again with Russ- were burned too deeply into her psyche to ever fully be erased.

Erasers.

She fingered the small piece of rubber that Booth had purchased just hours ago. A skull and crossbones to symbolize that the line between them had been erased. Where her trust issues with her father were a shaky thread at best, with Booth they were non-existent. After four years of partnership under the best and the worst of circumstances, she knew that if there was one person in the world whom she could trust it was Booth. And in a moment of sheer impulse she had proposed to him- had offered him access to her life- heart and all- that no other living being possessed. She wondered if she had made the correct decision. She set the eraser on a shelf in her bedroom next to Jasper and Brainy Smurf, wondering what sharing a home with Booth would be like.

A ring sounded.

"Brennan," she answered.

"Booth," he replied, his smile evident in his voice.

"Hello," she was pleasantly surprised, "Do we have a case?"

"No."

"Did I leave something in your car?"

"No."

"Booth," her suspicion level was beginning to elevate, "Did you call to check up on me?"

"Wrong again, Bones," he laughed.

"Then what do you want?" she asked, exasperated.

"Can't a man just call his fiancé for no reason?" he teased.

Her stomach did a little flip at the term, "Booth, you never do anything for no reason."

"I love you, Temperance Brennan."

"And I love you, Seeley Booth," the words seemed foreign, yet she felt quite secure in voicing the sentiment, "Now why did you call?"

"That's it, Bones," he seemed bemused.

"That's it?"

"Yep. Good night, Bones."

"Good night, Booth."

They hung up.

Defenses.

Seeley Booth smiled at the phone in its cradle, imagining the woman on the other end. He wondered if any other man had ever called her simply to say, "I love you" with no other strings attached. He doubted it; her walls would not be so high otherwise. If he was to be honest, though, he would have to admit to having his own set of defenses every bit as deep as hers. Built up when he chose to become a professional assassin. Fortified during his tours of duty. And again when he had a child out of wedlock and could not be the father that he had always wanted to be. On the outside, he assumed a very gregarious personality- but his family life- his personal affairs- were both sacred and private. He would soon have to let her in fully.

Erasers.

He had confessed to Bones that the line embodied his fear and it had. Inside of him was a deeply rooted fear that on day his carefully calibrated control would slip and he would lose her- either through her death or by her rejection of him as more than a partner. The result would be the same and he doubted for years whether he was strong enough to bear either one.

He had lost close friends before on the battlefield; had been rejected by Rebecca, by Tessa, even by Cam- whom he knew had never sought the same lasting relationship that he had. And so for his Bones he had drawn a line to help define things. Had been a friend when everyone else had ulterior motives. Had wiped her tears and soothed her fears. Had taken a bullet that had been intended for her.

Now the line was gone, and in its place he had found love and respect and acceptance. She had not rejected him, as he had feared for so long, but instead had invited him in. The fear was beginning to dissipate. He was moving forward, toward her- toward home.


	8. A time to embrace and a time to refrain

**A time to embrace and a time to refrain.**

Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth ran her fingers through her hair, stared at the keyboard, and attempted to write. Her characters, Kathy and Andy, were at a critical juncture in their investigation. She knew where she ultimately wanted to take them- it was simply describing the journey that was proving to be the difficulty.

"Bones!" Booth rapped at the door, "Bones, you need to come out now."

"Go away," she heard herself tell him.

"Hope's hungry," his voice had a pleading note to it.

The ensuing cry of her infant daughter snapped her back to reality.

Cautiously, she opened the door. Booth stood there, eight month-old Hope squalling in his arms, looking as disheveled on the outside as she felt internally. Relieving him of their daughter she retreated back into her office, though she did not have the heart to close the door on him again.

He followed her in, but kept his distance as she sat back down at her desk and began feeding Hope. Hungrily, the girl latched on, gulping as if it had been days- not hours- since her last feeding.

"You can't live in here forever, you know," Booth's words were soft and gentle, but she still could not handle them.

She sought words for a comeback- failed- and glared daggers at him instead.

"He wouldn't have wanted this," Booth switched tracks and went for the emotional jugular, "You know he wouldn't- not for his Tempe."

White-hot fire shot through her veins and her voice seethed with rage, "Don't. _Ever._ Call. Me. That. Again!"

He turned silently and left, closing the door behind him. She felt a momentary surge of satisfaction before the guilt crashed in or her. She would have to apologize later. The force of the guilt caused her to lose the tenuous grip that she had maintained on her emotions over the past week and the grief washed in, nearly suffocating her. Clawing for emotional stability, she focused on her daughter's face. The longer she looked, the more the grief ebbed until she finally could breathe again.

It did not help matters that Booth had been correct in his assessments. While she certainly could fulfill her duties as an author from this room, she could not as a mother- or as a wife. He was correct of the second count as well. The last thing Max Keenan would have wanted was for his daughter to wallow in her grief.

She could picture clearly receiving the news. Could see the sadness in Booth's eyes as he told her that there had been an accident near her father's house. A young neighbor boy had been chasing his ball in the street when a car came around the corner. Max had gotten to the boy in time to push him out of harm's way, but the car had hit him instead. One life exchanged for another- one daughter's grief for another mother's joy. To her credit, she thought, she had not dropped the dish that she was holding; had not crumbled on the floor; had not collapsed into Booth's arms. She had finished the dishes, gotten the children ready for bed, discussed funeral arrangements with her brother, and then fallen into bed.

Her carefully compartmentalized control had lasted through the arrangements, through the viewing, and into the funeral. She allowed the rational part of her mind to take over and squelch any raw emotions that threatened to overrun her. She did not allow herself to wallow in the unfairness of the situation. She did not dwell on the fact that she and her father had begun to get past all of the trust and abandonment issues that she had held against him for so many years. After the funeral, she went about her life as if nothing had happened and had accomplished more writing in a week than she had the previous month. Until today.

It was Monday, and for the first time in five years Max's charismatic demeanor and charming smile had not graced her front door with a bag of snickerdoodles and a pack of cards in hand. He had not come and he never would again. And so she had locked herself in her study and tried to pour her grief out on her latest novel. It wasn't working. Neither was rejecting Booth's affections. She would have to rethink her approach.

She burped Hope and switched her to the other side and closed her own eyes to rest for a minute.

On the other side of the door, Seeley Booth wondered what he was supposed to do next. For the last week he had watched his wife walk around like a zombie. Physically, she was present, but emotionally she was vacant. She had pushed away every attempt he had made to comfort her and so he had allowed her the space that he knew she needed. He recognized her old compartmentalizing habits coming back in full force and had not been able to stop them. But now she had spent the last twenty-four hours holed up in her office and she needed to come out.

Warily, he opened the door again, bracing himself for the wrath she had lashed out with earlier. The room was quiet, save for the sound of Hope's suckling, and he approached the chair. Her head was resting on her chin, eyes closed, breathing even. She was asleep.

How long had it been since she had truly slept? Every night for the past week he had fallen asleep to the sound of her fingers typing away at her novel. He could feel the mattress shift when she finally allowed herself sleep around one or two in the morning. A couple of nights, he knew, she had not come to bed at all.

Hope must have sensed his presence in the room, and turned to look at him. She smiled and he gently pried her from her mother's arms. Sated and sleepy, she fell asleep in the strong arms of her daddy within seconds. He wished he could comfort Bones as simply- wished even more that he could bring Max back to her.

"Hope?" Bones stirred with a start, arms registering that she was no longer holding her daughter; a note of panic in her voice as she searched the room.

"Shh," Booth whispered softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder and trying not to wake Hope in the process, "It's ok, Bones, I've got her."

She relaxed, visibly, and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Quickly, he exited the room, changed Hope's soiled diaper, and deposited her in her crib. He prayed that the door to the office would still be open when he got back. It was.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that the light had been turned off and that Bones was preparing herself for bed.

"How long was I asleep, Booth?" she inquired from the bathroom.

"Not long," he shrugged.

"Is everyone in bed?"

"Yep."

She lay down in the bed and he stripped to his boxers and joined her, keeping to his side of the bed. The gap between them felt like a chasm.

"Booth?" he heard her say quietly as he shut off the light.

"Yeah, Bones?"

"I'm sorry."

"I forgive you."

"It's Monday," she tried to explain but couldn't complete the thought.

"I know, Bones. I remember."

"I missed my snickerdoodles," she said weakly.

"I know."

"I missed our card game."

"Yeah."

Slowly, she backed into his embrace, closing the gap between them until she was in his arms. He wrapped himself around her, wishing he could insulate her from the pain. Warm tears slipped silently down her face and onto his hands and he pulled her closer. She shifted her body around in his arms until she was facing him. He could just make out her eyes in the moonlight and met her gaze.

"He always came back, before," she said thickly, "He left, but he always came back."

Booth didn't know what to say and remained quiet as she continued, "He's not coming back again, Booth. That's what hurts the most. He's gone and he can never come back."

And with that admission, the last of her barriers slipped, and she fell into his arms, unable to stem the emotional flood anymore. She still did not slip into hysterics or sob uncontrollably. Instead she wept with the heartbreaking cry of an orphan left alone in the world.

He shifted to accommodate her better and she clung to him even tighter.

"Don't leave me, Booth," she pled through her tears, "Please, don't leave me alone. I can't stand to be alone any longer."

"You're not alone, Bones," he soothed pressing his lips to her forehead, "I am here and I love you."

He held her, reassuring her, until she fell asleep in his arms and as he did, he vowed to do everything in his power to see that she never felt abandoned again.


	9. A time to gain and a time to lose

**A time to gain and a time to lose.**

"Hey, Bones," Deputy Director Seeley Booth entered his wife's office at the Jeffersonian, "What's up?"

Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth furrowed her brow, "I have never understood that question, Booth. It makes no sense to try and ascertain-"

He halted her with a kiss that started shallow and ended deep.

When they came up for air, she put her hands on her hips, but smiled at him, "You are incorrigible, Seeley Booth.

"Ya know, Bones, if I had realized how quickly you stop lecturing after being kissed, I'd have started kissing you from the very beginning."

"I probably would have kicked you in the testicles," she pointed out.

"True," he grinned, "But it would've been worth it all the same."

"Do you have a purpose in being here, Booth, or are you simply here to waste taxpayer money?"

"Never," he said as if taken aback, "How dare you even propose such a thing?"

"Hey, Dad," Special Agent Julie Booth as she entered the office, "What's up?"

Booth smirked at his wife, who rolled her eyes.

"Actually, ladies," Booth said, breaking eye contact with his Bones, "I came to see if you two would like to go to dinner with the Deputy Director of the FBI?"

"Not me," Julie said over her shoulder as she sat down on the couch, pulling a sandwich out of her lunch bag, "Sorry, I just stopped in to grab my lunch and pick up my end of the paperwork. Besides," she grinned, "I've got a hot date tonight."

"Really?" Booth's interest was piqued, but he tried to be subtle, "Anybody I know?"

"Smooth, Dad," she grinned, "And yeah; I promised Hope I'd take her to dinner and the movies."

"It's true, Booth," he heard Bones comment while digging for her purse, "Hope has been looking forward to it all week."

"Guess it's just you and me then, Bones," he helped her into her jacket.

"I suppose so."

"Bye, Jules," he gave their daughter a quick salute, "Ready, Bones?"

"Ready," she nodded.

"Might as well take the rest of the day off, Mom," Julie commented, "It's just paperwork left."

"Are you certain?"

"Yep, go play hooky with Dad."

"I don't know what that means."

"Means you're mine, Bones," Booth took her shoulders and steered her out of the office, "All mine."

"Don't keep Hope out too late," she called over her shoulder at Julie.

Booth kissed her again to quiet her.

"Booth," she protested as she pulled back before he could deepen the kiss, "We are at the Jeffersonian!"

"Hey, I haven't even come close to my kiss limit," he hooked her arm in his, "Besides, you look _hot_ today."

They walked out to the parking lot.

"Where's the Crown Victoria?" she asked, noting that his usual parking space was vacant.

"Yeah, we need to talk about that," Booth said, "Got the Mercedes' keys on ya?"

"Yes," she drew out the word, unsure of what to make of the situation, "However, if we are taking my car, then I'm driving."

"No problem," he headed toward the passenger-side door.

"Booth," she looked at him over the roof of the car, "Are you ill?"

"No."

"Are you positive?"

"Yep," he said, opening the door and sitting down, "Why the third degree, Bones? I'm fading of hunger as we speak."

She gave him a confused look as she opened her own door and sat down to start the car, "It's just that I cannot think of a time that you have willingly allowed me to drive without my talking you into it."

"Maybe I've evolved," he grinned.

"Doubtful."

"So where are we headed, Bones?" Booth wanted to know.

"I thought it might be nice to walk along the Tidal Basin," she replied, "The cherry festival is taking place and there are several vendors along that way that we can choose from."

"Sounds good."

She found a parking spot and they walked down to the Basin.

"Do you remember the first time you took me here?" she asked as they walked.

He nodded his head, "Yeah, I remember the rain too."

She smiled, "I was frustrated with you at first for forcing me out of the lab; however, I did enjoy myself once we arrived."

"Yeah," he agreed, "It was a fun day."

"Except for the rain."

"Well, yeah, except for that," he tried to hide a grin and failed.

"Ah hah!" the scientist exclaimed, "I was correct!"

"Correct about what, Bones?"

"_You_ were ogling me that day weren't you?"

"Me," he pointed to his chest and then shrugged, "Well, maybe. That shirt was like a second skin, you know?"

"As was yours."

"So I wasn't the only one ogling that day?" he teased.

"Perhaps," she blushed slightly at the memory and quickly changed the subject, "So is your SUV in need of repair?"

"Nope."

"Then why aren't you driving it?"

Booth spotted a bench and led her over to it. They sat down.

"I'm retiring," he said after a long moment of silence, "Turned in the paperwork today. In two weeks, I will be private citizen, Seeley Booth."

Shock registered on her face, "Why, Booth? Why would you do that?"

"They didn't give me much of a choice, Bones," he sighed deeply, running his fingers through his hair, "I'm sixty-five now. If I didn't leave, they'd find a way to get rid of me. This way, I go out on _my_ terms, not theirs."

"How long have you known?" she asked quietly.

"A few months," he held up a hand to stave off more questions, "Look, it's- it's just not that big of a deal to me, Bones. I mean, yeah, I'd give it a few more years if they'd let me but why bother? I'm certainly not getting any younger."

"No."

"Well you didn't have to agree with me _that_ quickly," he smiled, "Really, though, Bones, the more I thought about it, the more the timing just seemed right. To be honest, it really doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would."

"So what will you do?"

"Well," he stretched his arm and let it come to rest on her shoulder, "I figure I'll just kick back, relax, maybe go golfing more, watch some TV, join a senior center. I'll have to find some hideous plaid shirts, too, and maybe a cane. Wouldn't I look distinguished with a cane, Bones?"

She laughed, then, throwing back her head, "You are crazy, Booth. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," he agreed, then sobered, "First item of business, though is getting a new car. I'm gonna miss my company wheels."

They stood together and continued their stroll along the Basin in companionable silence.

Later, as they returned to the car, a thought struck her, "Am I expected to retire as well, Booth?"

"Nah," he waved a hand, "You're younger, plus it's not like forensic anthropologists are a dime a dozen like us FBI guys."

"It still doesn't seem, right, Booth- to determine that someone is unfit to do their job simply because they reach a certain age. They shouldn't be allowed to put you out to sea like that after all of the time that you have invested with the FBI."

He grinned, "Out to pasture, Bones, they put me out to pasture, not out to sea. Oh, and before I forget I'm supposed to turn in this too," he held out a card to her.

It was the security pass that she had secured for him decades earlier, giving him access to the platform at the Jeffersonian. It was worn from years of use, and it pained him to part with it.

"No, Booth," she pushed the card back at him, "No matter what the FBI says, you will always be welcome at the lab," she offered a smile, "At least as long as Cam and Julie and I are there."

"Thanks, Bones," he smiled back at her, "I might just pop in every now and again to nap on your couch, or take you out to the diner."

"I would expect nothing less, Mr. Booth," she kissed him.

"Why thank you Mrs. Booth," he waggled his eyebrows at her, "I love you."

"And I love you as well," she replied, "No matter how old you get."

Just as they reached the car, a thought occurred to Dr. Brennan-Booth, "Oh, Booth," she said, a playful grin spreading across her face."

"Yeah, Bones?" her tone and smile made him wary.

"Will you have to turn in your sidearm as well?"

"Yup," he nodded, "It's government-issue."

"Well," she pinched his cheek, "Feel free to use mine any time you wish to shoot something."

"Thanks, Bones- thanks a lot..."


	10. A time to keep and a time to throw away

**A time to keep and a time to throw away.**

"What about this?" Seeley Booth held up a ratty sweatshirt that, at one point at least, had read 'Northwestern'.

"I suppose we should throw it away," Temperance Brennan-Booth replied, "It is a bit worn."

A week ago, their youngest daughter Hope had gotten married. Now that they were both retired- and now that it was just the two of them at the house- they had decided it was time to get rid of the clutter that had built up over the last three decades. It was a much larger undertaking than Booth had originally assumed.

"Did you realize we had so much junk?" he asked when they stopped for lunch, handing her a cold glass of lemonade.

She shook her head, "I knew that some areas had become more cluttered than others, but not to this extent," she pointed to the two bulging bags of trash that they had collected.

The doorbell rang.

"Hello," a tall, skinny man whose face resembled a mouse peered in at them, "I have a delivery for a Mr. Seeley Booth," he squinted at his delivery sheet to make sure he had the name correct.

"That's me," Booth said, "Though I don't remember ordering anything."

"Oh," the man shrugged, "Well, I just handle the delivery part. Where do you want me to put this?"

"Put what?" Bones was at his side, hands on hips.

Two men emerged from the back of the mousey man's delivery truck carrying a large piece of furniture.

"Booth," he could hear in her tone that she was not pleased, "We are supposed to be getting rid of things, not getting more. And what _is_ that thing?"

Booth grinned as the men came nearer and he shook his head, "Camille!"

"What?"

"Cam," he said, stepping aside so that the men could come through, "I had heard she was leaving the Jeffersonian. Guess this confirms it."

"Is that the couch from my office?"

"Yep," he confirmed, "Cam said she would save it for me if she could. Apparently they are updating all of the furniture at the lab. I couldn't let them just throw the couch away, could I?"

"That would have been the prudent thing, to be sure," she shook her head at him, "However, if she was able to secure your couch then I wonder…"

She motioned to the delivery man, "Do you have an order there for Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth, as well?"

"Hmm," the mouse-man furrowed his brow, studying his sheet, "Well, no doctors here, but there is something here for a Temperance Booth."

"That's me," she assured him.

He motioned his men to get the doctor's delivery as she signed for it.

"What'd Cam save for you?" Booth was curious.

The men emerged, lugging a large glass case.

"Please be careful," she entreated, "That mummy is very fragile."

"Ugh, Bones," Booth complained, "I don't want some dead guy in our house! Where exactly were you thinking of putting it may I ask?"

"The basement, of course," she answered him.

"No way!" he protested, "I am _not_ sharing my man room with that thing!"

"Booth," she said, "You get your couch. I get my mummy."

"Couches are meant for basements, though, Bones," he argued, "Mummies are for museums."

"It's a replica, Booth, not actual human remains."

"Still creepy," he muttered.

The delivery men deposited their load, waved to the couple and sped off.

"You realize they probably think we are nuts," Booth commented, placing his hand on the small of her back as he ushered her back in the house.

"Most likely," she smiled, "After all, it's not every day one delivers a couch and a full-sized replica mummy."

They went back to their cleaning. By seven, they had finished cleaning out all of the bedrooms and had decided to call it a night.

"Ah," Booth said, settling down into the couch, "Now, _this_ feels like coming home!"

His wife laughed, "It certainly is broken in already."

"Shh," he put a finger to his lips, "You'll hurt the couch's feelings talking like that."

She collapsed on the couch beside him and shot him a sidelong look, "The couch has feelings now?"

"Yep," he collected her into his arms, "Like the Velveteen Rabbit- we've used it so much it's become real."

She shook her head, but relaxed into his embrace. Memories of all the time that she and Booth had spent on the couch flooded her mind. How many nights had she spent on it? How many times had she awakened to find Booth, coffee and doughnuts in hand waiting for her?

He had taken his share of naps here too- especially once they had married. He would come to her office after he was done at the Hoover Building, waiting patiently for her to complete the day's work. Most nights he would fall asleep- comic book splayed across his chest- before she was ready to go home. He almost never had complained.

She had conversed with many people on this couch as well- Angela, Booth, her father. Everyone seemed to gravitate to it when they entered the room. She remembered the little boy grin that had spread across her husband's face on her first day back at the Jeffersonian after nearly two decades of absence. She was pleased to be back at work. He was pleased to see the couch. She was thankful that Cam had sent it to them rather than allowed it to be discarded. Booth deserved to have the couch as his own after all that they had been through together.

Booth watched his wife's eyes glaze over as she slipped into the past. He smiled, and glanced over at the mummy that now kept watch on the room from the far corner. Even though Bones _claimed_ it was a replica, it still gave him the creeps. He wondered how much the old fellow had observed over the years standing in the corner of Bones' office.

So much of his and Bones' history was tied to that office. They had fought, chatted, cried, hugged and kissed there. Some years, he thought, they had logged more hours in the office than at their own house. She had seemed so happy when she got the opportunity to go back to work there. It had been her haven when he first met her- her sanctuary in which she was the one who called all of the shots. Once they had married and purchased this house, he had determined to make it every bit as much her sanctuary as her office. Looking down at her content face, he had to believe he had been successful.

Her eyes refocused and met him, "What are you thinking, Booth?"

"Just remembering; how about you?"

"The same."

"Good times, eh, Bones?"

"Yes."

"You know what else I was thinking?" he grinned.

"What, Booth?"

"I think it's time to break in our new couch!"

"Well," she turned around so that she was lying in his lap, "Since we're not in the lab, I _suppose_ we could finally do that."

"It'd be a dream come true, Bones."

"Booth."

"Yes, Bones?"

"Shut up."

They christened the old couch like Booth had always wanted to. And the mummy saw it all.


	11. A time to tear and a time to mend

**A time to tear and a time to mend.**

Deputy Director Seeley Booth looked around at the men gathered in his office and asked, "So are we agreed?"

"Yes, Sir," they chorused.

Booth nodded his head, "We move in fast, people. We get one shot at this. If we do it right, we bust the biggest meth players in DC. Do it wrong, and we're all screwed. Let's get armored up and in position for the signal."

As the men filed out to prepare themselves for the upcoming sting, Booth took himself through his own mental ritual. He thought of Parker, now fifteen and nearly Booth's height already. He wanted to be there to guide his son into manhood. He thought of his foster daughters, Scout- who would soon be eighteen and age out of the system- and Julie and Jenny, the two teenaged twelve year-olds who had just recently come to live with them. They needed a man in their life who would support rather than abuse them. He was only just starting to gain the twins' trust, and he wanted to be there for Scout as well.

Next, he turned his mind to the men and women who would be under his command. They all had families of their own and he was the one in charge of making sure that they did their jobs, and returned home safely. He took his role as the group's director seriously.

Finally, he allowed his thought to turn to his wife. Married now for seven years, Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth was no slouch. She had known that something big was going to happen tonight- her look at breakfast had said it all. She understood that he would be in danger- had accepted that as a part of his duty to the FBI- and would be waiting for him with open arms and a listening ear when he returned home. And he would return- because seven years ago he had vowed never to abandon her and he would remain a man of his word.

Mentally prepared for the conflict ahead now, he donned his standard-issue body armor and joined his men. They traveled to the house where several known meth dealers were meeting to package and distribute their product. The FBI had a mole deep within the meth organization who had been feeding Booth information for months now, in order to time the sting correctly.

When they arrived, twenty of Booth's men split off into pairs and surrounded the house, while helicopters flew just outside the neighborhood, ready to aid if needed. Booth orchestrated the operation from a van parked just up the street. Monitors surrounded him, giving him visuals on where they stood with air and ground support.

"Porter," he spoke to one of the tech agents, "Pull up the thermal imagery for me on the house."

The other man complied, giving Booth a visual on the heat signatures that were radiating from the target house. Six reddish shapes moved around various parts of the house, but something caught Booth's eye.

He swore, "Is that what I think it is?"

Agent Porter squinted at the spot Booth was pointing at on the monitor, "Looks like a smaller heat signature, Sir- infant or child, I'd say. No older than two at the most."

Booth swore again and got out of his seat, "I'm going with Team A. Inform the rest that we have a child in the building and to proceed with extreme caution."

"But, Sir-"

Booth stabbed a finger at the man, cutting him off, "You do your job, Porter. I am _not_ going to have a child killed on my watch!"

Checking his sidearm, he exited the van and made his way over to where Team A was stationed.

"Sir?" the agent whispered, surprised to see his superior in the field.

"We've got a reading on a kid in there," Booth spoke softly and motioned toward the house, "I'll take point, you two cover me. Our job is to secure the child, let the other teams handle the players."

The two other men nodded and they crept toward the house, securing masks to their faces. When the signal from the mole came, Booth kicked down the front door, while the other teams penetrated the back and side doors. Inside, they found the six adults working furiously to package their product. At the sight of the sting team, the meth-heads fled like rats in a flood.

Booth ignored them, saying a silent prayer of thanks that they did not seem to be armed, and focused solely on the child. He could see now that it was an infant boy, no more than four months old, laying in the middle of the meth-coated floor. His face was pinched and he began wailing at the sound of the intruders. The cries pierced Booth's heart and fueled his anger. The parents, whoever they were, had abandoned the infant in their attempt to flee from the FBI. Leaving his sidearm holstered, Booth scooped the little boy up in his arms and exited the building.

As soon as they were clear, he removed his mask and set about calming the infant, who was now screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Shh," he soothed, "Shh. You're safe now little guy; it's alright."

Booth walked the baby up and down the sidewalk in front of the house, soothing him and patting his back. The sirens stopped, signaling that all of the targets had been acquired, and the baby began to settle down in Booth's arms. Finally he settled down completely and fell asleep on Booth's shoulder.

"Sir," Agent Porter came up and spoke softly so as not to wake the baby, "The operation was a success. We're taking them back for questioning, and our crime scene guys are in the house taking pictures. The product wasn't made here, so we won't be needing HAZMAT."

"Good," Booth nodded, careful to keep his tone soft as well, "Have them look for the little guy's stuff while they are in there. Diaper bag, food, clothes, the works. Oh, and we'll need a car seat too to transport him."

"Yes, Sir," Porter replied, scooting off to the house.

Booth continued his walk in front of the house. Now that the danger was over, his anger was rising again. Even after four years of raising foster children, it never ceased to amaze him how callous and irresponsible parents could be toward their children. As he felt the little boy shudder in his sleep, Booth held him a little closer and rubbed his back again.

He wondered what would happen to the little guy. Protocol dictated that he be placed in emergency foster care. Unlike baby Andy so many years ago, who had swallowed the key to his mother's safety deposit box and thereby became a part of the chain of evidence, this little man was no more than an innocent bystander in these events. He glanced at his watch. It was nearing midnight, and he knew it would be at least another hour before they could contact Child Services and begin the process of getting the baby into a home.

"Sir," Porter was back, winded, but wielding a diaper bag and a car seat, "We found this upstairs, and the seat was in one of the cars. There's some powdered formula in there as well."

"Good," Booth nodded, "Get everything else loaded into the van and we'll leave as soon as you are done. Is there a name on of any of this stuff?"

The other man shook his head, "Not that we could find, no."

Instructing Porter to lay the seat on the ground, Booth eased the little boy into it, managing not to wake him in the process. Booth then proceeded to buckle him in and they headed for the van. Within twenty minutes they were back at the Hoover Building.

The first thing Booth did when he arrived was determine where his agents were in the interrogation process and if they had narrowed down who the infant boy's parents were.

"Right there's the mother," Special Agent Jeremy Allbright reported, pointing to a sneering woman, "Says the kid's hers but she wants nothing to do with him. Apparently he yelled and screamed too much for her taste. Blames him for tipping us off to them, actually," the agent shook his head, disgusted, "I'd say she uses a good bit of her product."

"What about the father?" Booth tried to contain the rage that was again welling inside of him, "Any guesses?"

"Don't have to," Allbright said, pointing to the adjacent room, "Momma claims the head man Vinnie here is our illustrious sperm donor. Vinnie wants about as much to do with the kid as Momma. Nice couple, really. Wanna know where they can sign up to give him away for good now that we have him."

"Great," Booth growled, "I'm sure Sesame Street'll do a spot on 'em any day."

"Parents of the Year for sure."

"Did you get a name out of them?" Booth asked, "For their son, I mean?"

"Nope," Allbright shook his head again, "She claims they never named him. Too busy, you know. Or too wasted- hard to tell with this crowd."

Back in his office, Booth wrung his hands and moved them through his hair, glancing over at the little boy still asleep in his car seat who had no parents who wished to claim him, and no name. No child deserved that.

His desk phone rang.

"Booth."

"Child services," a raspy voice replied, as if it had been woken from a comfortable sleep, "We hear you picked up something extra tonight?"

"Yes," Booth grimaced, "Infant boy. No name; parents want nothing to do with him and are asking for the papers to sign."

The voice on the other end sighed deeply, "Look, Director, it's one in the morning. Chances are I'm not going to find a bed for that boy tonight even if I came in right away. Now I've got papers here in front of me that tell me you and your wife are fully certified foster parents, is that correct?"

"We have three foster daughters right now," he had a feeling where this was headed.

"Do you have room for one more?"

"Plenty of empty rooms," he said, feeling oddly relieved that he wouldn't have to release the boy into emergency care, "Do I need to sign anything."

"Not 'til tomorrow," there was relief on that end too, "And thank you very much, Director."

They exchanged good-byes and hung up.

"Looks like you're going home with me, Buddy," Booth told the little boy, who was now awake.

Booth got him out of the car seat and changed him, using the diaper bag that Porter had found in the house. He was slightly proud of himself that he managed to get the job done without getting squirted in the process. They made a quick stop at Wal-Mart and picked up a pack-and-play for him to sleep in and then headed to the Booth home.

Bones was waiting for him on the front porch as he neared the house.

"Are you alright?" she came around to his car door and embraced him as soon as he got out.

"I'm fine," he assured her, "We got the bad guys."

"Well I surmised that," she said, "Since you were so late in arriving."

"Yeah," he ducked his head, "Sorry I didn't call you right away. Something came up that we weren't expecting."

The baby cried at that moment, scared and alone in the backseat of the Crown Victoria.

"Seeley Booth," Bones eyed him suspiciously, "Is that an _infant_ in the back of your car?"

"Bones," he kissed her head and then went to retrieve the baby, "I can explain. He was at the scene, his parents don't want him- they didn't even _name_ him- and Child Services didn't want to be bothered either."

"He doesn't even have a name?" she repeated incredulously.

"Nope," Booth shook his head, placing the boy back on his shoulder and rubbing his back until the infant began to calm down, "We snagged a pack-and-play for him to sleep in tonight. And some diapers and formula too."

"How about 'Jacob'?" Bones asked as they moved toward the house, bringing the pack-and-play with her.

"Huh?" Booth was sleepy and did not understand what she was asking.

"What if we named him Jacob?" she asked again, "It means 'God has protected' in Hebrew."

"Bones," he stopped as they entered the living room, turning to her, "I think that's a perfect name for him. What do you think, Jacob?"

Jacob cooed and flapped his arms at his new caregivers.

"Well, Jacob," Booth said, "Welcome home."


	12. A time 2 keep silent and a time to speak

**A time to keep silent and a time to speak.**

In an apartment in Washington, D.C., a world-renowned forensic anthropologist sat in a darkened living room and contemplated the difference one year can make.

One year ago today she had left this apartment and- on a whim- sang a song on a stage that started with frivolity and ended in heartache. If she closed her eyes she could picture every detail of that night: Booth grinning and waving his lighter; Pam Noonan brandishing a gun; Booth moving in front of the bullet that was coming for her; her hand, picking up the gun and killing Noonan without hesitation or remorse.

Cullen had informed her when she arrived at the hospital that Booth was dead and she had turned around and driven straight home. By the time she had arrived she was numb and in shock; her clothes covered in Booth's blood. There was a stain on her carpet to this day where she had discarded her shirt before scrubbing her hands raw and falling into bed. Sleep had mercifully enveloped her within minutes.

The next day she had been awakened by a loud knocking at her door. Her heart had raced- could the whole incident have been one long nightmare? Her face fell when she realized that it was Angela- not Booth- who stood at her door offering coffee and doughnuts. She was stunned to be informed that it was one o'clock in the afternoon. Angela had assured her that no one expected her back at the Jeffersonian right away.

And yet that was exactly what she had done. Showered, dressed, caffeinated, and fed, she had driven herself to work despite Angela's heavy protests. She had a job to do regardless of what was occurring in her personal life. There were plenty of bones in Limbo to keep her busy.

Even one year later, people still assumed that her reaction was based on some romantic notions that she supposedly had realized that she felt for Booth. They were still wrong. Her reaction had come because she had lost her best friend. Booth had woven himself so thoroughly into her life over the past three years. He was usually the first person that she spoke with in the morning and the last person at night. Booth had been her go-to person for navigating through interpersonal situations that occurred and he of all people seemed to come closest to understanding who she really was. Sometimes it seemed that he understood her better than she understood herself. To have his presence removed so completely had left her floundering- more so than she was comfortable admitting.

That was why she had buried herself in her work- to try and regress to the person that she had been before he had entered her life. It was futile, of course, but she had since found that grieving people often did illogical things to cover their grief. That was also why, upon seeing him healthy and alive at his own funeral, she had first taken out his assailant and then struck him. In that single instance she had felt both elated and betrayed. It had bothered her for quite some time that he had not made certain that she had known of the ruse, and she had been more than slightly tempted to run her fist through Sweets as well. He had no right playing with their emotions like that. Come to think of it, perhaps she should have let Booth in on the game Sweets was playing and let him work the young man over.

Booth had come back from the dead; however, the worst was yet to come. They had gotten back to work, settling warily back into their routine. And then had come the explosion, followed by the theft of the Gormagon skeleton. She had watched her once-close team point fingers at each other left and right as they realized that the killer had come from within their own ranks. She would never have fingered Zack; though she was able to pinpoint the flaw in his logic. Would she have seen the signs had she not been so caught up in her own emotional turmoil over Booth's supposed death? Could she have done anything to prevent the young man's decisions? Regrets were not in her nature, but even she could not prevent the questions from surfacing.

It was only after Zack's betrayal that her more romantic notions for Booth had begun to surface. Booth had stood by her as she worked through her feelings regarding Zack; had not demanded her to share her feelings on the topic until she was ready to open up to him. He had held her when she cried, listened as she struggled to put words to her feelings, and been there to force her out of the lab when she needed it. He had even run away to England with her. The shift from being best friends to something more had been slow and subtle, but as time went on it came to the point where neither one of them could deny it any longer. Nor had they wanted to.

The anthropologist jumped slightly at the sound of the apartment door opening and smiled at the man who walked through it.

"You found me," it was more of a statement than a question.

"Not hard, Bones," he smiled, joining her on the floor in the darkness, "Though I was bit surprised to find you missing in the first place."

She shrugged, "Sleep was eluding me."

He nodded, "You coming home tonight or do we stay here?"

"The carpet needs to be cleaned," she explained, "I doubt that the stain would attract prospective buyers."

"Want help? Or do you need to do it alone?"

She looked up at him and tried to smile, "Well, it is _your_ blood."

He echoed her weak smile and drew her into his embrace, "Why don't we wait until morning, then, Bones?"

She nodded in agreement and leaned more deeply into him, again marveling at the difference a year could make. She allowed her husband to help her up and guide her to his waiting car. There was nothing she could do to change the past.

It was time for her to go home.


	13. A time to love and a time to hate

**A time to love and a time to hate.**

Newly-minted Deputy Director Seeley Booth sat back in his chair in his spacious new office and grinned. He had been on the job less than twenty-four hours, but he decided that- so far at least- he enjoyed being the guy in charge. The chair was definitely more comfortable and the view was amazing.

His desk phone rang.

"Director Booth," Jolene, his secretary, was on the other end, "There's an agent here to see you."

"Send him in," Booth replied.

He hung up the phone and straightened his tie, standing to greet his first visitor. His jaw nearly dropped when he saw who it was.

"Well look who's the big man on the Hoover campus!" Timothy Sullivan swung open the door with a grin.

A shock ran through Booth's system and for a full thirty seconds he did not know what to say.

"Surprised to see me?" his one-time friend asked.

"You could say that," Booth managed, "Did you just get in?"

"Yep," Sully plopped down in one of the chairs near Booth's desk and Booth followed suit as Sully continued, "Just docked the 'Temperance' at the marina this morning. Figured I'd check in here first thing- though I was surprised to find you running the show."

"That's- um- that's great, Sul," Booth fingered his wedding band, unsure of what to say next since Sully seemed oblivious to the pain his presence meant to Booth.

Sully noticed the ring, "Hey, Man, when did you tie the ol' knot?"

"Almost three years ago," he ran his hands through his hair.

"Good for you," Sully grinned, "Anybody I know?"

"Look, Sully," Booth cleared his throat and stood up, "Have you talked to Bones at all since you got back?"

"No," Sully's cheery tone became tinged with jealousy, "Booth, I came here to find you first, okay?"

"To feel out the waters?" Booth added a slight edge to his voice, "See if she'd waited around for you after all these years?"

"Hey!" Sully stood up and moved so that he was toe-to-toe with Booth, "I gave her the choice to come with me!"

"But you weren't willing to stay," Booth's voice was low and controlled, "You guys had gone out, what? A little more than a month before you took off," he glared down at the shorter man, "Where I'm from- you really love a girl- you stick around."

"Whoa," Sully held up his hands and lowered his head, "Whoa! Number one, as I said, I gave her ample opportunity to come with me- she was the one who chose to break it off and stay behind. Number two, what gives _you_ the right to pry into _our_ personal affairs? Remember, I did clear this relationship with you before I asked her out and I'm coming to you first now."

"Number one," Booth mocked, trying desperately to keep his hands from wringing the other man's neck, "You sprung the whole sailing thing on her out of the blue and only gave her 'til the end of the case to make her decision. That's not 'ample opportunity' and it's not a bind that you put a woman you claim to love in. Number two," he held up a finger and pointed to his own chest, "It became my right to pry when I had to pick up the pieces because yet another man in her life left her behind. Do you have any clue how much you hurt her when you made it an all or nothing decision? Oh, she didn't shed massive amounts of tears or anything, but _I_ was the one who had to almost bodily drag her back out of her lab. She didn't smile- really genuinely smile- for a week, and it was even longer before she worked her way through it fully."

Booth fell silent, unwilling to trust himself to hold his temper in check much longer.

"I didn't know," Sully said softly, "But she made her choice."

"And so did you," Booth pointed out calmly, "You chose to leave every bit as much as she chose to stay."

"Well, we'll just leave the final decision up to Tempe, why don't we? I was headed over to the Jeffersonian next anyway," Sully turned to leave.

"You won't find her there," Booth informed him.

Sully stopped and turned around, "Won't find her where?"

"At the Jeffersonian."

"Well," he looked taken aback, "I'm stunned, but pleased to hear it. Surrounding herself with death all of the time was not healthy. I'll just stop by her apartment, then."

"You won't find her there either," Booth shook his head.

"Then where is she?" Sully demanded, "Or aren't you going to tell me?"

"She's at home," Booth glanced at his watch, "Probably working on her next novel. Possibly making plans for dinner tonight- I'm holding out for mac 'n' cheese."

Understanding dawned slowly on Sully's face as he assimilated the full meaning of Booth's words, "She? You?" he spluttered, turning to face Booth again.

Booth held up his left ring finger, displaying the band, "For almost three years."

"Impossible," Sully shook his head, incredulous, "She opposed the institution of marriage. She- she wouldn't give up her career for even a year for me. How? Why _you_? I mean, I know you guys were a good team, but I thought it didn't go beyond that? Did you _lie_ to me all of those years ago?"

"Because I know Bones," Booth explained softly, "Daffodils, daisies, Jupiter- I _know_ her," Sully looked confused, so Booth continued, "Yeah, I've liked her for a long time- probably even back when you were around- but I waited for years before I told her that I loved her and when I did, I didn't ask for her to change who she was! _She_ proposed to _me_, Sully, because she said that she trusted me enough not to leave her. I was willing to take her as she was, though. _She_ chose marriage.

"Then last month, _she_ decided to leave the lab so that she could focus on being an author and a foster mother to teenage girls who had been abandoned like she had been. We're in the last stages of that process now, Sully, but again- these were choices that she made, and that we made together. I never backed her into a corner on any of them and would have loved her not matter what she had chosen."

The two men stood silent, regarding one another with crossed arms.

"Please," Booth broke the silence, "Don't reopen old wounds. If you ever really cared for her at all- don't do that to her. She doesn't deserve it."

"Alright," Sully finally agreed, sensing the urgency in Booth's voice, "I'll respect your wishes."

Booth relaxed visibly, "Thank you."

Sully reach in his breast pocket and handed Booth his badge, "I don't need this anymore."

"You sure?"

"Yes," Sully dipped his head and turned to walk away again, "I know you'll take good care of her," he said over his shoulder as he reached the door, "And if you ever want to tour the Caribbean…"

Booth nodded his head in acknowledgement, though they both knew he would never call.

When his door closed, Booth sat back down at his desk, propped his elbows up, and let his head rest in his hands. The confrontation that he always knew would come someday was over. He had not had to resort to violence or use his gun- though the prospect had been sorely tempting.

He picked up the phone at his desk, cradled it between his shoulder and head, and dialed a number.

"Booth residence," just the sound of her voice brought a smile to his face and eased away his tension.

"Hey, Bones!"

"Booth!" he could hear her smile and it warmed his heart, "How is your first day as Director progressing?"

"A good agent resigned today," he told her honestly.

"I'm sorry, Booth," she said empathetically, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I dunno, Bones," he said playfully, "I might need some comfort food when I get home."

"Oh, really," her sarcasm dripped through the phone line, "Well I suppose it is a good thing that I had already decided to prepare macaroni and cheese for dinner tonight."

"Thank you, Bones," he said sincerely, "I'll look forward to that."

"You are welcome, Booth."

The line went silent for a moment.

"Booth?"

"Yes, Bones?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Bones."

"I'll see you at home for dinner?"

"Bones," he grinned broadly, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."


	14. A time for war and a time for peace

**A time for war and a time for peace.**

"Booth!" Dr. Temperance Brennan called, looking around the house for her fiancé, "Where are you?"

"In here," Special Agent Seeley Booth called from the walk-in closet in his bedroom.

"'Here'," her voice drew nearer to him as she followed the sound of his voice, "Is one of the least-specific answers that one can give when asked to provide one's location."

"And yet," he grinned, coming out to meet her in the hallway, "Here I am."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, "Indeed. So what are you attempting to accomplish?"

He ushered her into the room, hand on her lower back, "Come see."

Boxes littered the bedroom floor where he had been making room for her things among his own. They had decided that, since his townhouse was big enough for the two of them as well as Parker, she would move into the townhouse after the wedding. Her apartment, then, would eventually be put on the market and sold. With all of the plans that were going into the wedding- along with their workload, which was keeping them busy as well- they had decided to wait to put her apartment up for sale.

"I never realized how much _stuff_ I've accumulated over the years," Booth commented as they wove throughout the boxes on their way to the closet.

Brennan nodded, "I am finding the same to be true with my belongings as well."

They reached the closet and Booth opened the door, revealing a half-empty closet, "Ta-da! It's all ready for you to move in, Bones. Well, almost," he looked over at a pile of things still left to be sorted through, "Shouldn't take too much longer."

She smiled, taking in the space, it felt almost as if she were intruding on a very private space. While the left half was empty save for one pile, the right contained everything from dog-eared books, to sports paraphernalia, as well as a pair of boxer shorts adorned with cartoon characters.

"May I be of assistance?" she offered, not sure if she was overstepping her bounds or not.

"Sure, Bones," he smiled, lowering himself to the floor and motioning her to join him, "Thanks. Like I said, I've just got this one pile left to sort through. Well, that and then finding a place for all of the boxes out there. All I'm doing is just organizing things into boxes for right now."

He pulled out an empty box, set it up, taped the bottom and labeled the box, "Ranger Stuff".

"A very scientific labeling process you have in place, I see," she teased him.

He grinned, "You know me, Bones- as scientific as they come."

"Well," she returned, "You are marrying a scientist."

He leaned over and kissed her, "That I am, Bones. That I am."

"Though your lone foray into the scientific arena was highly prejudicial and not particularly accurate."

"Heh," he smiled, "I just found that lab coat while I was cleaning up. Not sure which box I put it in come to think about it."

He began handing her things from the pile in front of them for her to put into the box. She wondered idly if he would have simply scooped up the entire mess and plopped it in if it weren't for her presence, but he seemed thankful for her aid so she said nothing. He would also accompany each item with a small anecdote; the odd-smelling boots that he had not taken off for a month straight while in Afghanistan; the k-bar knife that had been passed down from generation to generation of Booth men dating back to World War One- he planned to give it to Parker when the boy was old enough.

"Now this," Booth pulled out an old uniform, "Brings back memories."

She took it from him, noting the worn fabric riddled with small tears, "Did you wear this for a month as well?" she asked.

"Nope," he shook his head, "That was my very first uniform, Bones. I wore it through Basic and then all through my sniper training too. Some of my best buddies out on the field were guys I met during training."

"A sports field?" she asked, confused.

"No, Bones- the battlefield," he explained.

She reddened slightly and went back to silently packing things up.

"Here," Booth dug around in the pile, "Here's a picture of us after graduation."

Brennan leaned over his shoulder to view the picture, "You look," she searched for the correct word, "Young."

He nodded, "We were kids there. Had no clue what we were getting ourselves into, really. We all thought we were invincible."

"It is a common trait among young men," she shrugged, "Society views adolescence and early adulthood as the 'prime of life', therefore thoughts of mortality are pushed aside as irrelevant and death is assigned as something that only occurs in the elderly and infirm."

"Yeah, well, we found out how wrong we were quick," Booth pointed to two of the men on the right-hand side of the picture, "Steve was killed our first mission out. Red only lasted to the third."

"I'm sorry, Booth," she placed a hand on his arm, "You don't have to relive these memories if it is too painful. I know you must have lost several friends over your years of service."

He shook his head, laying the picture down reverently into the box, "No, I don't mind, Bones. Sometimes it's good to remember them; you know, keep their memories alive. The guys who never talk about it are the ones who have problems down the line."

They worked in companionable silence for several minutes; the pile dwindling as the box filled.

"Why do you have a rock in your closet, Booth?" she held up a smooth, oblong stone.

"That, my dear Bones, is Spanky," he grinned, "Official pet rock for our unit down in Guatemala."

"Do I _want_ to know why you named a rock 'Spanky'?" she inquired cautiously.

"Probably not," he smiled; a twinkle in his eye.

"You certainly have a number of unique accouterments here," she commented.

"Thanks, Bones; I think. The Rangers were like a family to me, you know? They taught me a lot about sacrifice, discipline, loyalty, duty, and patriotism. I think every boy in America could really benefit from a year of military service."

"But what about the risks?" she met his eyes, careful not to sound unfeeling, "You lost friends, you were tortured, and you could have died any moment. Was it truly worth all of that?"

Booth set the last of his Ranger memorabilia inside of the box and faced her, holding a picture out to her, "That's the Suarez family," he explained, tone soft, "They were put on a hit list by their own government for exposing the corruption of one of the country's top leaders. Their kids couldn't even go to school for fear they would be shot or kidnapped. I took out the main assassin that had been sent out for them while my unit helped smuggle them out of the country. They live here now- safe and able to raise their family without fear of reprisal.

"Freedom never comes without a price, Bones. And I would willingly lay down my life so that people like the Suarezes can live in peace," he reached out and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, "It's no different to me than the danger that we put ourselves in sometimes solving cases. There are evil, evil people in this world, Bones and you and I- we get a shot at removing them from society and keeping other potential victims safe. I know that some people are opposed to violence, but we have to accept that it exists and choose to do something about it rather than turn a blind eye. And you have to admit, Bones, we're doing a pretty good job."

"Brain and heart?" she smiled.

"You got it!"

"You are a good man, Booth," she kissed him on the lips, "I look forward to sharing my life with you."

"And now the closet is all ready for you," he grinned triumphantly.

"Well," she picked up the dirty boxers and hung them by a finger, "Almost ready."


	15. Epilogue

**Hello Everyone,**

**Well, that's it for ****Purposes Under Heaven****. Thank you all so much for all of the comments. Hope you all enjoy the next series, ****Counting by Fives****. It's a look at all of the Booth anniversaries from 5 through 45. The 50****th**** anniversary is written in ****Wedding Vows: A Series of 12 Oneshots****.**

**Happy Reading,**

**Gum**


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